It was finally over.
I stood amidst the carnage, the wind whispering through the silence like the
breath of a dying world. The battlefield stretched endlessly before me, a
grotesque masterpiece of blood and broken bodies. Steel glinted dully under the
dimming light, swords and shields abandoned by those who had fallen. The horizon
was painted in angry reds and somber greys, the sky torn between the remnants
of night and the promise of dawn.
The stench of death was suffocating—blood, sweat, burnt flesh—but I inhaled
deeply, savouring it like the first breath of clean air after a storm. Around me,
nothing moved. No cries for help. No last gasps for mercy. Just the stillness of
judgment.
At my feet lay Seraphim. Or what was left of him. His severed head rested in my
grasp; his lifeless eyes frozen in an expression of disbelief. The hero had fallen,
but not with glory—only with confusion.
I tilted my head, studying his features like an artist admiring his final stroke. "I
warned you," I murmured, my voice calm, almost tender. "You thought this was
your fight, that you were the hand of justice. But justice…" I crouched, placing
his head gently on the ground, "…was never real. It was just power, wearing a
pretty mask. And you…" My lips curled into a smirk. "You were too weak to take it
off."
The sky grew lighter, streaks of orange cutting through the dark. I rose, stepping
over his body, the blood-soaked earth squelching beneath my boots.
I walked alone through the desolation, my shadow stretching long across the
scarred land. Each step felt heavy but satisfying, as though the weight of the
world itself had finally shifted. Here and there, I caught glimpses of the world I
had destroyed—burnt-out villages, crumbling towers, the remnants of banners
that once carried hope.
Hours passed like minutes. I found a stream, its waters muddied with blood but
still flowing. Kneeling, I washed my hands, the crimson swirling away in delicate
spirals. I paused, staring at my reflection in the water. My face was calm, but my
eyes… Those eyes no longer belonged to the man I once was.
I made my way back to the ruins of the city, weaving through the broken streets.
I passed markets turned to ash, homes now hollowed husks. In the distance, the
skeletal remains of a temple still stood, its once-grand spire leaning precariously,
like a weary sentinel watching over a kingdom of despair.
I reached an old inn that had somehow survived the chaos. Inside, the air was
thick with the smell of soot and aged wood. I bathed, scrubbing away the dirt and
blood, feeling the warmth of the water cleanse me, though it could never wash
away the weight of what I had done.
Later, I ate a simple meal—bread, cheese, and wine scavenged from the remains
of a pantry. It was tasteless, but it filled the void. I thought of Lilith as I ate,
imagining her laughter, her smile. For a moment, I almost felt human again.
Night had fallen by the time I reached the cemetery. The air was thick with the
scent of earth and decay, a quiet reminder of life's fragility. I stood before
Lilith's grave, the carved letters of her name illuminated faintly by the silver glow
of the moon.
Kneeling, I traced the inscription with my fingers, the stone cool under my touch.
"They didn't deserve you, my love," I whispered. "You were too bright for their
world, too pure for their hypocrisy. They cast you aside, ridiculed what they could
never hope to understand."
I paused, my voice catching for a moment. "So, I sent them to you, Lilith. Each
and every one of them. Their judgment wasn't mine to pass; it was yours. Take
them, care for them—or don't. Whatever you choose, it's better than the mercy
they showed you."
I leaned back on my heels, the faint rustle of leaves filling the silence. "If there
is peace anywhere, it's with you. But here… there is only justice. Justice, and me."
I found the tallest building in the city—a skeletal tower that had somehow
survived the onslaught. Climbing to its roof, I stood at the edge, looking out over
the ruins. Fires still burned in the distance, their smoke curling into the heavens.
The sky was ablaze with colour—orange, red, and deep purple, as if the gods
themselves mourned the loss of their creation.
The scene was haunting, surreal. For anyone else, it might have been unbearable.
But for me? It was beautiful.
I spread my arms wide, feeling the wind whip around me. My laughter started as
a low chuckle, but it grew, echoing across the empty city until it became a roar.
"This is peace," I said finally, the words carrying weight and finality. "No one left
to give me a title. No gods. No kings. No heroes."
I closed my eyes, letting the silence envelop me. "Not a villain. Not anything. Just…
the end."